


And Every Day I'll Be Waiting For You

by Owloftheice



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owloftheice/pseuds/Owloftheice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan falls in love with a cute boy at a coffee shop and doesn't expect the outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Every Day I'll Be Waiting For You

**Author's Note:**

> Aha when I was writing this I was kinda like "Oh let's write an original story" So I originally wrote this with the names of Liam (Dan) and James (Phil). Halfway through, I changed my mind and described them as Dan and Phil, figuring I'd just change the names later. Then, at the end, I decided against it again. And two months later.... here we are. This is my first phanfic OH

It was like clockwork. Every day at precicely 8am, Dan would show up to the coffee shop, take his apron off of the hook in the back room, and begin his shift. For his entire shift, the coffee shop may as well have been deserted, not receiving a single costumer for all eight hours. He would spend this time entranced by whatever novel he had plucked off of his shelf that day, and at 4:00pm he would return home, only to repeat the same drill the very next day. Unless they got more traffic during others' shifts, Dan was surprised that there was enough income for the shop to remain open.  
This taken into consideration, naturally it came as a surprise to Dan when, half an hour after his shift had begun, the bell on the door rung to alert him of a customer's presence. He pulled himself away from his novel to glance at who stood before him, unable to supress a small smile. The man wasn't much older than Dan himself, most likely in his mid 20's. He had dyed-black hair, his fringe almost falling over his deep blue eyes. He had on a t-shirt with some cartoon character on it and a dorky grin. He looked almost as if he had ran here while in a rush.  
From that day on, the man- Phil, that's what it said on his credit card when he payed- came in every day at exactly 8:30, ordering the same thing and sitting at the same booth- the fourth one back, on the left. Dan had begun to expect him, and after the first few weeks he prepared the coffee and had it sitting at Phil' table just minutes before he showed up. The two never conversed beyond the general 'how are you's and 'It's really storming outside, isn't it?'s, yet Dan felt a sense of comfort whenever Phil came in as expected. There was something about the routine that just felt right. Plus, Dan didn't have to sit alone for the hour that Phil hung out, which he certainly wasn't complaining about. He even found himself looking forward to Phil' visits, attempting to convince himself that it wasn't much more than friendly feelings.  
This routine carried on for months without fault.  
On April 18th, Dan stayed up all night, staring at the ceiling. Hours before he had talked himself into finally holding a conversation with Phil about something other than the weather, and for longer than two minutes. He never had been good with social interactions, though, and therefore spent most of the night attempting to plan out what to say to him. Once he finally pieced together the right words around 2am (And therefore it technically being April 19th), Dan found himself sleeping easily, to the extent of not hearing his alarm blaring in the morning.  
Dan was never one for being late, always arriving exactly when he had planned to, so when he woke up and found that he was fifteen minutes late to start his shift, he jumped out of bed, panicking. He hastily threw on the first t-shirt he found in his closet (black with white stars around the collar) and a pair of jeans. He didn't have time to fix his hair, leaving his normally straightened, brown locks in a curly mess.  
As Dan had sprinted to his work, he couldn't get Phil out of his mind. He couldn't think about his dorky grin or the way that he always seemed so up-beat in the morning, as if every day he had found $20 laying on the sidewalk. He found himself wondering what sort of t-shirt he would be wearing that day- yesterday it had been a shirt with a galaxy and cats. As Dan thought about this, he wasn't thinking or looking at where he was going. He had walked to work so many times that he trusted his legs to carry him there. He didn't notice when he was about to cross a street, didn't look both ways. He didn't see the black truck that was headed straight towards him.  
Everything had been a blur. He vaguely remembered a familiar voice shouting, "Dan, look out!" with an undeniable sense of urgency. He remembered a force shoving into his back, forcing him to stumble forward then fall to the ground. Voices, an ambulance, officers checking to see if he was okay.  
Phil's funeral had been the first that Dan ever attended. He didn't know what to say or what to do, except for feel numb and guilty. The beautiful man that Dan had grown used to seeing every day had given up his life for him. He had pushed him out of the way of the oncoming vehicle. Had Dan simply watched where he was going, or woken up on time, all of it could have been avoided.  
After the funeral, when he was getting ready to leave, he was approached by a woman, with piercing blue eyes. Dan felt like he was being stabbed in his heart as he noticed how similar they were to Phil's eyes. She introduced herself as his mother and continued to ask if he was the guy from the coffee shop. When Dan nodded, unsure of what was coming next, she gave him a sad smile. She informed him on how Phil had never stopped talking about him, how after a while he had only turned up to the coffee shop for the small conversations with him. How Phil was going to finally ask him on a date on that fateful day, April 19th.  
Dan had never cried harder than he had that night. He had never before felt such a raw guilt, guilt that had nestled itself and built a permanent home in Dan's stomach.  
If someone were to walk into the coffee shop now, they'd see a man with brown, curly hair, which he never bothered to straighten anymore. On the counter next to him a novel would be sitting, untouched and forgotten. More often than not he'd be staring off into space, lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes he would be so lost in his own thoughts that he wouldn't come back to reality for another hour or two.  
And finally, the last thing they would see when they walked in is, on the fourth table back on the left, a mug of coffee, waiting for someone who will never return.


End file.
